


Roommate Wanted

by Accidental_Ducky



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clintasha - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-17 23:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5888779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accidental_Ducky/pseuds/Accidental_Ducky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ad in the paper had been a simple one--Roommate Wanted: two bedrooms, one bath, spacious backyard. Too bad they forgot to mention an older brother that practically lived on the couch and moved at lightning fast speed. Perhaps rooming with Wanda Maximoff had been a mistake after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Attack of the Bread

"Winifred," Pietro asks, furrowing his brows," I thought your roommate was just a bit younger than you." Pepper shrugs, putting up some of the groceries that she and Wanda had picked on the last trip to the store.

"She's twenty-two," Wanda responds, shoving a bag at her twin before moving further into the kitchen with her own bag. "Make yourself useful and help put stuff up." Pietro rolled his eyes, but obliged nonetheless to avoid getting eggs thrown at his head…. Again. After saving the world, Wanda had quickly decided to move to a small town far away from the adventure, not that Tony wouldn't hesitate to have a private jet landed in the backyard, but she liked the idea of normality. Pepper had decided to come help set the two-bedroom house up while she had a break

"What cruel parent looks at their child and decides on a name like  _Winifred_?" Pepper just shrugs again, having learned just two months ago not to engage in conversation with Pietro Maximoff after witnessing him talking Tony out of his favorite pair of sneakers. "I mean, you hear that name and think of an old lady you need to help across the street. You could buy her Life Alert as a welcome present."

"If you scare this one off, I'll lock you in the cellar." Rolling his eyes, Pietro pulls a gallon of milk out of the sack he held, bumping his sister aside so he could put it up before moving the brownie mix to the cupboard just beside the refrigerator. The last three potential roommates had been unable to deal with the fact that the Maximoff siblings were part of the Avengers—the danger and all that—and the four before them had left simply because they didn't want to deal with Pietro's smart mouth.

"If they can't handle friendly conversation with me, then how can they get you to talk to them," he asks, hopping up on the tiled counter and crossing his ankles. "You're too closed up around people sometimes." With a glare, Wanda easily pushes him off the counter and to the floor.

"And what about the whole superhero problem," Pepper adds, turning to look at Wanda with a small case of pop in her hands. "Are you just going to edge around that?"

"No." Wanda shakes her head, taking the pop and putting it in the bottom crisper of the refrigerator. "She was part of the SHIELD place before it was brought down, they were helping her learn about her abilities."

"Anything interesting?"

"Shapeshifting mostly, from what I've seen, she uses it to change her hair color a lot."  _Boring_. He'd met an Enhanced that had that particular ability, though they died soon after due to complications. "She said something about Tonks, but I am not sure what that was, so I didn't ask further." Pepper snorts, her amusement only growing as she faces the two siblings.

"Remind me to buy the Harry Potter box set the next time I go to Walmart," she states, leaning back against the counter as Pietro finished putting the groceries up. "Tonks was a character in the series, she was basically a shapeshifter, so obviously your new roommate is a tiny bit of a geek."

"Does that mean she's going to be ugly," Pietro asks, running a hand through his thick hair. He'd thought of dying it back to its natural dark brown, but changed his mind since the silver strands had gotten him recognized in high end restaurants in New York, leading to half-priced dinners and quick sex. There was no way in hell he was looking that gift horse in the mouth.

"Doesn't matter," Wanda states, poking her brother's chest," she's off limits." He knew that poke, it was the poke that meant he'd be sleeping on the porch for the next two weeks if he screwed this up—whatever  _this_  is. "You don't flirt with her, you don't sleep with her, and you don't get her drunk."

"What can I do with her?" Wanda paused, her dark brows furrowing as she thought about that question, taking longer than Pietro liked as she opened her mouth and shook her head a few times before finally answering.

"Perhaps you should get your own home and stay in it?" He rolled his eyes, knowing for a fact that he'd be sleeping on her couch for the first few weeks to make sure her new roommate doesn't preserve body parts in the basement or work for Hydra. If there was one thing Pietro was good at, besides nearly dying, was protecting his sister. Besides, houses were expensive and he planned to switch between here and the loft in New York that Tony helped him procure—something about the guy owing Tony money for a shady game of poker that ended in a firefight.

Whatever it was, Pietro was glad that it'd happened because he doubted he could handle seeing Tony dancing on the pool table again. "Why can't I be your roommate?"

"Because you're too messy, I'd be picking up after you like our mother always did." Her small nose crinkled in disgust, and Pietro wasn't sure if her should be offended or amused at the expression he hadn't seen since Ultron entered their lives. He'd missed it.

"I'm not  _that_  messy."

"I found a pair of your boxers on the back of the couch this morning."

"I folded my laundry there, I must have missed them."

"They were bright green," Pepper chimes in with raised brows," with yellow stripes, they could be used to guide the Death Star to a parking space, so how did you miss them?" He could feel his face heating up, just then remembering that he'd meant to throw those monstrosities in the garbage before his sister returned home. The boxers had been a gift from the Vision just two weeks ago, an attempt at a truce so that Pietro would stop glaring every time the thing sat near his sister, but they hurt his eyes whenever he looked at the underwear and he wanted them gone.

"Uh…. Bad eyesight?"

"Maybe you should make him an eye appointment because the boy must be blind."

"Well, if I have to wash my eyes out with bleach after walking in on Vision kissing my sister one more time, my eyesight will be completely gone." Wanda rolled her eyes and slapped at his shoulder, Pietro making a face as he rubbed the sore spot.

"Don't mess this up," Wanda said sternly, pointing at him again," you won't like the consequences if you do."

* * *

Two days later, Pietro found himself lounging in Wanda's room, a bowl of popcorn balanced on his stomach and Oprah occupying the TV screen across the room. In such a small town, there was little to do outside unless you wanted to people-watch at the local Walmart, so he'd settled with eating and watching stupid shows like Dr. Phil or Ghost Hunters. Wanda was at work still, filling in for someone at the law firm, so he wasn't expecting to hear the front door opening so early. Setting the popcorn aside, he runs into the kitchen, finding a young woman standing with her back to him, pulling things out of a plastic grocery bag.

From behind, he could see that she was dressed tastefully in a blue skirt that stopped under her knees, a black, tailored leather jacket, and a pair of black and white heels that made her legs look like they went on forever even if she only seemed to come up to his chest. Her hair was hanging freely down her back in loose curls, ending a few inches beneath her shoulders and the color of cotton candy. Grinning, he tiptoes closer to her and let out a shout, expecting her to jump and maybe scream back at him. Sure he got that reaction, but then he was hit in the face with a loaf of bread. He stares at the woman in shock, eyes moving from her face to the bread in her hand, bread that now had an impression of his face in it.

"You hit me," he says, taking on an offended look," you hit me with  _bread_."

"Who the hell are you," she demands, accent a little thick as she holds the bread up threateningly. He'd never been afraid of bread before, but he was starting to think that she could do some real damage with it.

"I live here, unlike you!" The woman's pink brows knit together as she looks him over, brown eyes seeming to miss nothing. "Who are you?"

"Winifred Castano and you must be Wanda's brother. She said you'd be here, but I didn't expect you to terrify random people."  _She's pretty enough_. Pietro doubted they'd get along after this—how could anyone take a liking to someone that hits people with bread—but he knew for certain this tale would keep his sister entertained for the next month. She sets the bread down and extends her hand for Pietro to shake, her tanned skin only looking darker next to his pale hand. Most of the people around here were tanned, but hers looked more like it was from genetics instead of the constant sunshine.

"I am Pietro Maximoff." She nods, turning back to the sack and continuing to pull out a container of cookies and a two liter of Mountain Dew. "We have groceries, you know."

"My kids and I had a party today and I brought back some leftovers." Kids? She didn't look old enough to have a kid, and even if she was a little on the chunky side, she didn't bare any resemblance to someone that had given birth. She catches sight of his skeptical expression and gives him a bright grin. "I'm the Spanish teacher at the high school."

"Oh, that makes a lot more sense." While she was putting her leftovers up, he took a moment to really study her. Her nose was a bit large, like her eyes, but her mouth was small and a pale pink color. Her breasts, what little of them he could see, were small, and he figured she'd be around five feet or so without her shoes on. "How long have you lived in Chandler?" He was curious to find out since her accent wasn't the thick Southern drawl he'd gotten used to, it was an accent he'd never heard before.

"I've lived here since I was ten, but I lived in Spain before that." That explained it, he'd never been to Spain before. "What about you? Wanda never said."

"Sokovia," he answered, his eyes following her every movement. Unlike several people he'd told this to since coming to Oklahoma, Winifred seemed to roll with it and not ask any questions.

"Well," she sighed, turning to face him with another smile," it was nice to meet you, Pietro." Turning on her heel, she left him in the kitchen and entered the bedroom across the hall from Wanda’s, closing the door after her. He shrugged, walking back to Wanda’s room long enough to grab his popcorn and turn off the TV before heading for the living room, plopping down in the armchair Pepper had bought as a house warming present.

She called it a La-Z-Boy, he didn’t know that brand, but he  _did_ know it was the most comfortable chair his butt had ever come in contact with. He wasted no time in turning on the flat screen, pressing play when a menu screen popped up for the movie Wanda and Vision had started the night before. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was or who the characters were, but he liked all the sword fighting. Focused on the characters and intricate fighting, he never noticed Winifred coming up behind him, never saw the mischievous curl to her lips. Wiggling her fingers, she lunges forward and pushes his shoulders with a loud shout. 

He’s embarrassed how much like Wanda he sounded when he screamed, the bowl flying out of his lap and popcorn raining down on him. “Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

Maybe they’d get along after all.


	2. Banana Weapons and Subway Sandwiches

Everything seemed to run smoothly once Winnie got all of her things moved in, Pietro spending most of his morning running around the local track or repairing the small shed in the backyard. It was the size of a bedroom, perfectly square with two small windows and a small loft, though the ladder leading up to it was too rotted for him to chance. His plan was to turn this into a room for himself, he could fit a twin-sized bed in here and a nightstand, it’d be a nice place to have some privacy. 

Winnie had promised to help him paint it once he was finished with everything else, apparently her brother owned a hardware store and she could get the paint for free as long as she watched her niece for the night.

One thing he didn’t like about Oklahoma was how hot it could get even during the winter months. In Sokovia he’d often had to bundle up, but here he found himself dressed in shorts and a tee with a water bottle close by at all times. He’d never been so thankful for air conditioning or the fans they had spaced throughout the little house. In all honesty, the only thing he really liked about Oklahoma was the trees, there were four in their yard alone and he’d often found himself lounging on the thick branches with a magazine and a glass of tea.

Okay, so there was more than one thing he liked—the accents. In New York, women would practically throw themselves at him because of his accent, but not here. Here, almost everyone had an accent, a soft southern drawl that made everything soothing even if the person speaking was calling him everything except a white man. They didn’t look at him weird for having an accent of his own, taking it in stride. In fact, the main thing people seemed to react to was his unusual hair.

He’d noticed that very few people here had hair dyed an unnatural color, so his silver strands stuck out like a sore thumb whenever he left the house to run around town. He’d seen old people rolling their eyes at him for it, he’d had teenagers compliment him on it, but his favorite reaction was when small children asked if they could touch it. Sure, he wasn’t the world’s biggest fan of tiny, sticky fingers caressing his head, but he really did like the excited grins he got from the kids whenever he acquiesced.

One thing he’d learned after months spent in the small town of Chandler was that those little quirks people in the big city called adorable were actually just racist remarks that had Pietro’s teeth grinding. Add to that the almost hilarious sight of skinny boys walking around with their underwear showing and claiming they were gangsters, and he was ready to commit an act of violence. _How can anyone claim to be a gangster when they could be taken down by a three year old on a sugar high?_

Honestly, he was just baffled that his sister actually liked this type of life. They were an hour or so from the city, there were no bars unless you counted the garage of a local family, and the most interesting thing to happen in the past year was the Maximoffs coming to town. Sure, he liked that everyone—okay, mostly everyone—saw him and his twin as superheroes, but it did tend to get old when the same few women offered the same sexual experience every Tuesday of the week.

At first, that had been a blessing he wouldn’t turn down for anything, but now he found himself staying home on Tuesdays just to avoid it. How could anyone around here have one-night stands with people they would run into the next morning and have to pretend it never happened? It seemed like a lot of work and Pietro wasn’t up for it. He liked sex as much as any other man, but he would gladly run into the city or at least Shawnee so he could have safe-ish anonymous sex and still be home in time for dinner.

 _Speaking of food_.

His stomach let out a loud growl, forcing Pietro into making a tough decision—risk being mobbed by fangirls by leaving the house or tempt fate and try not to set the house on fire while attempting to make a grilled cheese again? Rubbing his stomach, he sets the hammer down and makes sure his phone was in his pocket before leaving the shed and heading for the house.

It really was a nice one despite its size, the back porch fitted with two wicker chairs and a little loveseat-styled thing, all with floral cushions. There was a sliding glass door that led into the kitchen, the largest room in the house apart from the living room with a mini bar to separate the kitchen from the dining area, a top of the line stove and refrigerator. The walls of the kitchen were painted a sunny yellow color, emphasized by the sunlight pouring in through the window above the sink. In the dining area there was a small table for four and a curio cabinet where they kept their dishes—mostly paper plates, but it kept them from having to wash much.

He was just heading for the for the freezer section of the fridge where he had some Hot Pockets hidden when he noticed the sound of the TV playing in the living room. His brows furrowed, he brings his phone out to check the time. Only eleven, so who the hell was in his house. He grabs the first thing his hand comes in contact with and inches across the hall into the living room, finding a pair of feet perched on the back of the white couch where a head would normally rest.

That right there told him who was there and he put down his weapon with a sigh of relief, though he scowled when he noticed his so-called weapon was, in fact, a banana. “What are you doing home so early?”

“Classes were cancelled because they had to shut the water off,” Winnie answered, twisting around until she was sitting right side up, smiling at him over her shoulder. “I brought Subway.”

“Did you get the—“

“Yes, I got your ketchup, you weirdo.” She tosses him the flimsy sack that contained his sandwich and apple slices. “So, what have you been up to lately?”

“Working on the shed,” he shrugs, opening a ketchup packet and then squirting it all over the Chicken and Bacon Ranch Melt, his personal favorite sandwich. “You know, it really warms my heart that you know what food I like, Winifred.”

“Call me Winifred about one more time and I’ll shove that sandwich up an orifice that you’d prefer to keep exit only.” Winnie arched a brow along with her threat, but Pietro only winked at her. As usual, she was dressed casually in a pair of jean shorts, Greek sandals, a white shirt that had _pizza is my valentine_ printed on it in black along with a slice of her favorite food, a pair of dangle cross earrings and a simple black pair of studs above those since her ears were double pierced, and her glasses. She often referred to them as Hipster glasses, and she usually hated most Hipster things, but the glasses had called to her very soul when she spotted them.

Her hair was done up in a messy ponytail with a pink bow for decoration, though today the pink was short through with bits of lilac and orange that reminded Pietro of the sunset he’d seen just the other day. “Besides the water getting shut off, how was your day?”

“Fine for the most part, I guess.” She gives a nonchalant shrug, taking a huge bite out of her own sandwich. “I assigned them to translate their favorite song into Spanish, so we’ll see how many of them used Google tomorrow.” There was a bit of lettuce clinging to her bottom lip from her talking around a mouthful of food and Pietro had to fight the urge to remove the lettuce with his own mouth.

There was no denying that he found Winnie attractive, even after spending so much time with her, but he knew well enough that his sister would slap him silly if he entertained thoughts of Winnie in scandalous positions for too long. Unlike so many women he’s known, Winnie didn’t try to act like someone she’s not. Hell, the woman had bragged about how many marshmallows she could fit in her mouth on her first night here.

Yeah, Pietro could see himself getting into a lot of trouble with Winnie as his sidekick, but that trouble would be multiplied by ten should they ever decide to date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two Outfit: http://www.polyvore.com/winnie_castano/set?id=189165050


	3. Meeting the Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used Czech as a substitute for Sokovian, I also used Google Translate, so let me know if I need to change it.

After a long day spent working, Pietro had never been happier to live with three people that actually knew how to cook. After the beanie weenie incident last week, he’d been banned from the kitchen apart from getting a drink of heating up frozen dinners in the microwave, so he was more than happy to lounge on the couch while Winnie, Vision, and his sister messed around in the kitchen. He was still a bit miffed about how long it took for him to grow his eyebrows back, but they were coming in nicely.

“I’m going to get the others,” Wanda calls, grabbing her wallet and keys before walking out the door. Pietro knew the others were Winnie’s brother and niece, Wanda having decided to have a family dinner since they were all practically family at this point. Pietro just hoped the brother wouldn’t smash Pietro’s head in should his eyes wander to the pink-haired Shapeshifter.

He couldn’t help it that she dressed in cleavage-bearing clothes, it wasn’t in his nature to look away. Yet he was an older brother as well—twelve minutes older, to be exact—and he could understand the near unquenchable urge to strangle men—er, whatever Vision is—that looked at Wanda the way Pietro looked at Winnie. _Maybe he won’t aim for my face_. Pietro happened to like his face just the way it is, thank you very much, and he would gladly take a hit to his kidney before he let someone ruin his good looks.

Vision came into the room a few minutes later, clutching a glass of cranberry juice that nearly matched his skin color. Pietro was starting to get used to Wanda’s boyfri— the other person, but there was still an awkward silence that hung between them whenever someone wasn’t around to fill it. Still, Pietro made an effort to try and relax since the other guy _had_ saved his sister’s life when she thought Pietro was dead.

“Winnie says super shall be ready momentarily,” Vision stated, sitting in the old armchair that was near the couch Pietro had claimed, both pieces of furniture and the chair across from the couch were angled towards the flat screen.

“That’s great, I am starving.” Ernest Scared Stupid was playing on the TV, meant to keep the mood light and it was also a movie that the adults and the little girl could enjoy. He didn’t know much about Winnie’s closest relatives—most still lived in Spain or New Mexico—except that their names were Teodore and Hannah Castano, Hannah’s mother having passed away two days after Hannah was born due to complications, and Teodore owned the hardware store in town. He wasn’t sure how old Hannah was, but her father was at least a year or so older than Winnie. He wasn’t even sure if the other two were Shapeshifters like Winnie, but he had heard her talking to Wanda about how the ability had been inherited after her mother had undergone genetic tampering.

“This movie is quite funny, isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh.” Okay, so maybe he wasn’t making too much of an effort, but how was he supposed to be comfortably around the guy that’s…. Keeping his sister company? “I think I’ll go see if Winnie needs any help.” He moved quickly, a blue blur as he rushed into the kitchen in time for Winnie to turn around. She let out a noise of surprise, the tub of salsa falling from her hand. It would have splattered all over the floor and her flip flops had Pietro not caught, time slowing down for a second like it usually did when he used his ability.

“I’d say thanks,” Winnie says, taking the salsa from him,” but it was your fault to begin with. _Fuera de mi camino_ , Speedy.” She nudges his arm and he takes the hint to move out of her way, leaning against a small counter near the refrigerator and watching as she sets the salsa on the bar next to the homemade cheese dip.

“Was that your language?” He’d heard her speaking Spanish a few times before, mostly when she was talking on the phone to her family or when she stubbed her toe, but she’d never spoken it directly to him.

“Yeah, it means get out of my way.”

“I got that much, thank you.” He grins when she laughs, a goofy sound that he’d come to like. It wasn’t that fake little giggle he often heard women give when he made a joke, this was real and it was a laugh only Winifred seemed capable of. “Can you teach me some useful phrases?”

“Only if you teach me how to say ‘go fuck yourself’ in Sokovian. My boss has been breathing down my neck because my kids’ assignments aren’t too challenging, so I’d like to tell him that in a really sweet voice. You know, make him think it’s a compliment so he’ll compliment me and walk away.”

“ _Jdi se vysrat_ ,” he tells her, laughing when she tries to repeat the words. “Keep trying, you’ll get it soon enough.” She smiles, moving back to the stove to check tonight’s dessert—Pietro’s first homemade chocolate cake. He was looking forward to it since all he’s heard for the last week was how it was an orgasm in a bowl; at least, Tony Stark said so whenever he’d stopped by the week Pietro spent helping Sokovia rebuild. He’d also heard about how Tony had gotten drunk and ran around the block in his birthday suit.

“Hey, be on your best behavior when my niece gets here, she’s not old enough to hear the word _puta_ yet, let alone the stuff that spews out of your mouth.” He had to stop and think for a minute for what that word had meant, eventually using context clues for the last time he’d heard it. Winnie had been on the phone with their landlady, a rapid string of Spanish spilling out of her mouth before _puta_ was used.

“Does that mean ‘bitch’?”

“You catch on quick.” She winks at him, leaning back against the longer counter across from him, her forearms taking her weight. She was dressed nicely tonight without it being too restrictive like the outfits she has to wear to her job—a simple yellow sundress that had straps that wrapped around her neck to bare her shoulders, cork flip flops with pink accents, silver butterfly earrings, and five small bracelets around her left wrist. Unlike usual, her hair stopped halfway down her back and was little more purple than pink, blue streaks spiraling through it.

Pietro himself was dressed in a pair of nice jeans, running shoes, and a simple, long-sleeved, white shirt. He had his headphones draped around his neck, still plugged into his phone, but no music playing to soothe his racing mind. One of the cons of being insanely fast like he was: when you had to stand still. He found himself constantly moving something, even if it was just tapping his fingers against his leg, it seemed impossible to sit still.

The sound of the front door opening gains Pietro’s attention, him and Winnie looking towards the living room with completely different emotions running through them. Winnie was obviously excited for her family to meet her new friends while Pietro found himself strangely nervous to meet Winnie’s brother. What was he supposed to say? Most brothers he met usually tried to hit him, so how was he supposed to act around a guy that might not want to knock him senseless?

Wanda was the first to come into the kitchen, pale face lit up with a devious smile as she met her twin’s gaze. She was beautiful, there was no denying that, with her long brown hair and delicate features. He’d do anything for his baby sister and he knew she’d do the same for him, but in that moment he knew she was throwing him to the wolves.

The wolves in this instant being the adorable little girl that skipped into the room and the six foot five inches of pure muscle that followed after her, wrapping a muscled arm around Winnie’s shoulders and resting dark brown eyes on Pietro.

“So,” Teodore says by way of greeting,” this is him?”

 _Shit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Three Outfits: http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=189347625

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter One Outfits: http://www.polyvore.com/winnie_castano/set?id=189157741


End file.
